


A Silent Love Story

by Areiton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Castiel-centric, Dean is a Good Friend, Dean-Centric, Introvert Castiel, M/M, Panic Attacks, unconventional love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8212333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Castiel is quiet and odd and brilliant and fascinating. And Dean is determined to get to know him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna be honest. I wrote this after a panic attack. It was 100% me working out my feelings about social anxiety and being painfully introverted.   
> Enjoy?

He's shy. Quiet. Awkward and so damn brilliant that it makes Dean stare sometimes.

And he doesn't know Dean. That's the thing. Dean watches but he doesn't get close. 

They had History 102 together, and Intro to American Lit. Dean watched him, with this kind of intrigued patience he doesn't usually have for anyone but Sam. But he didn't approach. 

Castiel Novak wasn't the kind of guy that Dean approached. 

And he always looked alarmed, kind of swallowed up by nerves, when someone approached him. 

So Dean watches. 

*

Second semester, they have three classes together. British Lit, Ancient Civilizations, and Early American Lit. 

By the third class, when he enters the room and Castiel sees him, he's not imagining it when the other man brightens. 

And it gives him the courage he needs. 

Castiel is quiet, a kind of still nervousness that reminds Dean of a wild animal, as Dean slips into the seat next to him. 

But as Dean opens his laptop and arranges his textbook, Castiel slowly relaxes, until he's just as comfortable as he was before Dean sat down, and all of his attention is on the professor. 

**

It goes like that, for weeks. Dean sits next to Castiel during lectures and tests, and flashes a smile when he arrives and before he leaves. A smile that Cas shyly returns.

But they don't talk. 

Or rather. Cas doesn't talk. He listens, while Dean lands in the chair next to him, still on a call to Sam. When he's talking to another student, slouching lazily, tapping a pen against the desk. 

When he's muttering notes to himself as he types on his laptop, tweaking a paper. 

Dean knows a Cas is listening, and though he gets to listen to Cas answering questions the professor poses, and once, talking to someone named Gabe on the phone. 

_ They  _ don't talk. 

***

Then, midway through February, Dean vanishes. He's gone for a week, and by the time he slides into his normal seat at Cas’s side on Tuesday, Castiel is anxious and twitchy. 

Class is already underway, so Dean doesn't say anything to the nervous man at his side. He doesn't even look at him. 

And it digs at Cas, as they discuss the class reading and Dean sits silent and radiating cold, struggling to keep up as the class discusses A Modest Proposal. 

He looks tired and worried and it bothers Castiel. They've never spoken, but he feels absurdly close to the brash, loud student who is surprisingly insightful and thoughtlessly kind. 

Cas scribbles on a post-it, before nerves can talk him out of it, and slips it over to Dean’s desk, before refocusing on the professor. 

_ Welcome back. _

Dean stares at it for a long time, before he slips it into his book and goes back to writing notes, a tiny smile on his lips. 

Dean looks a little less distracted when he arrives at class the next day, but the smile he offers Cas is tired, more habitual than anything. He's not entirely _present_. 

It makes it easier. With his eyes on the phone he's frowning at, for Castiel to pick up the stack of papers and slide them onto Dean’s desk. 

It comes with a sticky note. _I made copies of my notes. If you want them._

Dean stares at him, his eyes wide and surprised and Castiel flushes, the prettiest shade of red and Dean blinks. Nods. 

“Thanks, Cas.” 

*

It doesn't change anything. Cas still sits too quiet and attentive at his side during lectures, his eyes wide and nervous when Dean looks at him and opens his mouth. So he always closes his mouth again. They still don't speak, although occasionally Dean will forget and mumble a sleepy good morning before their Monday lecture. 

But it also changes everything. Cas is visibly happy to see him. Dean will cut his eyes at the other man when someone says something inane, smirking. Cas will scribble assignment reminders for Dean. Occasionally, Dean will steal the ever present post-its and write his own notes. 

**

Dean's friends notice. 

_ What's the deal with you and Novak?  _

Cas hears the question as he walks through the caf, books tucked under one arm, lunch in his hand, frowning at the over full room. 

He looks over and sees Dean with a group of students he doesn't know, and two of them are looking at him. 

Dean looks up and catches his gaze and a smile, bright and surprised and pleased tilts his lips. 

Too many people are watching. Panic claws in his chest and he bolts, and he can hear them talking behind him. 

It doesn't slow him down. 

He doesn't slow until he's outside and lazy rain is splattering his trenchcoat. 

He isn't surprised when a hand catches in his sleeve and pulls him gently around. 

Dean stares at him, concern in those big Green eyes. 

“You ok?” he asks. And Castiel shakes his head. 

***

He isn't. Hasn't been ok in a long time. And it's not that he wants to be like this. He wants to talk to Dean. Wants to explain everything. Wants to laugh in the caf and answer those patient questioning smiles with more than just a panicked twitch of the lips. 

But he _can't_. 

So he shakes his head no and Dean hums an acknowledgment and sits in silence next to him as Castiel gets his panic under control.

*

During class, Dean gives Cas his phone number. 

The post-it reads, _if you need anything._

Cas doesn't respond, but he flashes Dean a smile, wide and white and gummy, his eyes crinkling a little, and it's ok that he doesn't talk. 

**

Cas doesn't talk.

But he texts. 

Constantly. Long rambling stream of consciousness texts. Sarcastic commentary on the antics of college students. Short observations about his lunch. Dry jokes that makes Dean snort with laughter. Complaints about his brother. 

Theories about the assigned reading. 

And. 

Lengthy explanations about his anxiety. A rambling, disjointed apology of sorts. 

Dean answers every single text and teases him into conversation more and more. 

But that one. That one sits for a while. Until Dean sees Cas on Monday. He looks nervous. They've been texting for weeks now and it's the first time Dean's ignored him. 

Dean slides into the desk next to him, and glances at him. 

“You don't have to explain. Or apologize. Ever. This is you, man. I don't really care why. I just want to get to know you, however you’ll let me.” 

Because it's that simple. 

Cas is shy and awkward, with almost crippling social anxiety. And he's quiet, all the brilliant words boiling up and sticking in his throat. And it doesn't matter. 

Because that's Cas. And Dean loves everything about the guy. Even how shy and odd he is. Maybe especially that. 

Cas watches him, his eyes strangely bright and alive. 

***

He gets the text a few days later. An invitation to study and have coffee together and he doesn't even consider it. He's shoving his feet into shoes, and pushing Jo and Charlie out the door before he even thinks to send a response, his blood humming in anticipation. 

Cas wants to see him. 

_ Cas _ wants to see _him_. 

*

The coffee shop is empty when he gets there. He claims a booth in the back and opens up his book and tries not to fidget. Tries to remember that he can't scare Cas away. To rein in his enthusiasm. 

When Cas walks in and looks around shyly, he stands and grins. 

And it all drops away. Something different fills Cas’s eyes and he smiles at Dean, bright and unrestrained as he crosses the coffee shop, presses up against him and kisses him. 

Soft. Sweet. Shy. Quiet. All the things that Dean adores about Cas is there, in the press of his lips and the flirting dart of his tongue, the hands that flutters at Dean's collar. 

It's perfect. 

When he pulls away, his eyes are laughing and warm. But it's what comes next that sends Dean to his knees. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

**

It turns out, once Dean gets Cas to talk. The bastard never shuts up. 

 


End file.
